


It rains in your bedroom (Everything is wrong)

by i_pogchamp



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Dream Team SMP Spoilers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:41:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28086369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_pogchamp/pseuds/i_pogchamp
Summary: Bad can't sleep knowing what happened to Skeppy is at least partially his fault, and there's only one person who's ever managed to help when he has horrible nights like these.Unfortunately, that person is gone.But he's going to hurt himself with the shell anyway.(Can be read romantically or platonically, it's basically just how they act anyway with more hugs lmao)
Relationships: Zak Ahmed & Darryl Noveschosch, Zak Ahmed/Darryl Noveschosch
Comments: 5
Kudos: 200





	It rains in your bedroom (Everything is wrong)

**Author's Note:**

> inaccuracies are because i dont actually watch the streams i dont have the attention span
> 
> yes the title is from a taylor swift song, i was a fan when i was younger, before i found fallout boy and being emo.  
> have at cuddles

"Um," Bad creaks the front door to Skeppy's new "house" open a crack. He's been invited here, but he still feels like he's intruding- and it is the middle of the night, so it makes sense as to why.

The interior of the 'house'- a hole, let's be honest- is dimly lit from the torch set up at the entrance to the mine. There is a bed set against one wall, but there's no Skeppy in it. Four furnaces are stacked against the back wall beside the crafting table and the supplies chests, with scattered parts of other workstations mid-setup littered around against the hewn stone and packed mud. Rods of bamboo are set against the dirt to support it, to stop it from caving in.  
(He's no longer sure if Skeppy would even care. He doesn't seem to care about anything.)

It's been... a day. A day that has hurt him and torn him open- this is his fault, all of this is because of him. Skeppy is _wrong,_ isn't even himself anymore, and it's all _Bad's fault._ He's been sat in his room for the past three hours pulling his regrowing hair out and intermittently sobbing into his hands, his hoodie, his pillow... one of Skeppy's hoodies, after an hour or so of crying into his own. It had helped, to sit in Skeppy's old room, even though it's partially trashed from the freak out earlier in the day, with debris and things thrown everywhere.

Puffy had been reluctant to leave him that evening. She'd pulled him into a hug and half-climbed him to kiss the top of his head, and she'd held tight whilst he shook and dry sobbed against her shoulder. But he'd assured her he'd survive. They'd do better tomorrow. She said they'd figure something out.

They both knew they were lying, but neither were going to admit it.

And so hours of being stuck in the house spiralling brought him to a conclusion- all he needs to feel better is Skeppy. And he can't have that.  
He couldn't have that _before_ all of this mess, before the egg, before the blood vines. Not having Skeppy has been a recurring thorn in his heart since not long after they met, the day that Bad looked over at Skeppy losing his shit over Techno trying to shake his hand free of the glue welding his axe to his skin and realised suddenly that this was where he always wanted to be.

Well. Not sat under the tree in the rain being chased by a half-angry Technoblade who can't be disarmed. But next to Skeppy, listening to him laugh, making him smile.  
Loving him.

But it's different now. The reason he can't have Skeppy now isn't his own failings, his own flaws and disappointments.   
He can't have Skeppy because Skeppy... doesn't exist.

He knows there's part of Skeppy still in that crimson thing, something deep inside. Because he keeps saying he has no feelings but euphoria, he has no desires but the egg's- but he's shown that to be untrue when it comes to Bad. It's nothing like how he'd usually react to the shenanigans they've been up to, like the crafting table, or the discount Skeppy smooches, but it's _something._

"Skeppy?" Bad steps into the cave, watching the torchlight flicker across the rough walls. There's a pause in the sound of shuffling from the mine below, and then footsteps. Not-Skeppy comes up the stairs with that same neutral, distant expression on his face, though his eyebrows raise minutely at Bad's appearance. In his doorway, framed by moonlight and fiddling with the buckles on his suit nervously as he waits, he looks like a rabbit caught in the firelight of a bonfire, hunted and terrified.

"Bad." Skeppy replies flatly, but it's intended as a question and Bad takes it as such.

"I- um- I know that you _really_ want to get back to the egg, and it's important-"

"It is. You're interrupting my work." Skeppy interjects, and Bad takes a shaking breath, fighting tears and failing to hold them back. They glitter in the torchlight, he's haloed by the moonlight, such a clash of color in the darkness of the cave. Something in Skeppy fights to soften.

"I know, I'm sorry, I just- I'm having a bad night," he looks up to meet Skeppy's eyes, even though it upsets him, because he cant stop the tears from flowing now, "I keep having... bad dreams. Will you sleep with me? Just for tonight. Just- just pretend everything is okay."

He can _see_ Skeppy warring within himself, the part that the egg controls fighting and arguing tooth and nail, trying to get him back down into the mine. He sees Skeppy's hand twitch, sees the flick of his eyes glancing over toward the mine. Then a breath, and the conflict seems to halt.

Skeppy offers out a hand to him.

"Just for tonight." It's still the same, still monotonous, but the sorrow writhing behind the flat black of his eyes is so _Skeppy_ that Bad nearly cries. He takes Skeppy's hand and it doesn't feel right, too-warm and too-dry but the grip is still Skeppy's, the way he threads their fingers together is still the same as he guides the two of them over to the bed.

"Boots off," Bad reminds Skeppy, and begins toeing off his own. To his surprise, Skeppy does the same, and without releasing his grip of his hand either. Bad sets their boots neatly aside, and Skeppy lays down first, fingers still twined with Bad's as they curl up together.  
Bad, tentative, lays his head on Skeppy's chest.

"Is this okay?" He asks, and feels Skeppy's fingers flex between his own for a moment before the free arm comes up around him, settling against the back of his head, Skeppy's fingers buried in the short regrowth of his hair.

"It's acceptable." (Yes.)

Bad closes his eyes. Skeppy's heartbeat is too slow, his body too warm, his skin too dry, but the touch is still his best friend. Still his Skeppy. Something inside him still loves Bad, and disregarding the determination to bring him back, disregarding the fight, Bad just wants to sleep.

"I'm so sorry, 'Geppy," He murmurs, quiet and muffled, burning hot tears slipping from his squeezed-shut eyes, "I should have done better."

"Go to sleep." Skeppy replies, flat and monotone and empty. The hand that holds Bad's own squeezes affectionately.

It's wrong. It's all wrong and awful and terrible.

But Bad falls asleep.

That's the best he can do.


End file.
